


Working to Make it Work

by OneThreateningAcronym



Category: Paranatural (Webcomic)
Genre: Clue AU, M/M, OOC, Polyamory, Self-Indulgent, also in the same universe as, and i have zero excuses, brought to you by a string of questionable life choices, college life but not really it's only kind of mentioned, definitely, domestic AU, it's a silly love story at the end of the day, lots of headcanons, lots of links to other related things, probably, so many in jokes, the weird and sprawling apartment au no one asked for, this was written a year and a half ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 10:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11251536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneThreateningAcronym/pseuds/OneThreateningAcronym
Summary: Polyamourous relationships are hard. They're harder when two of you have been dating since high school, one of you unwillingly fell in love with your cute neighbors and were subsequently assimilated into the relationship, and one of you has had feelings for the other three since middle school and only found your feelings returned shortly after starting college.A silly love story told through snapshots of life, stretched across two neighboring apartments separated only by room number.





	1. How to Beat a Genius at Chess

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Glowstickia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glowstickia/gifts).



> Falling in love is a process.
> 
> And by process, I mean a series of events that you are likely to look back upon in shame and wonder "why was I so stupid?"

“Just move your darn piece already.”

Dimitri glared across the table at his opponent. She shot him a flat, impatient look, clearly ready for the game to go on. They had been sitting there for nearly nine minutes already. The floofy haired man tented his fingers and continued to regard the chess board between the two of them. He stared at it with critical eyes, looking over his carefully laid assault… it would take an amazing feat of genius to pull this off.

Luckily Dimitri was, in fact, a genius.

Isabel groaned and slumped in her chair. “Dimitriiii… seriously, dude. I can’t sit here all day,” she whined, sliding so far down into her chair that it squeaked against the kitchen tile. “Chore wheel says I’m making dinner tonight and Violet’ll get huffy if I don’t have food done by 7.”

Dimitri rolled his eyes, but his attention never wavered from the board. “Quit being so dramatic,” he responded coolly. Then, a bit childishly, he added, “You’re the only person around who’s a remotely worthy opponent; an actual challenge. Let me savor this a bit, won’t you?”

It was Isabel’s turn to roll her eyes. Unceremoniously, she stood up from the table and stretched her arms above her head until her shoulders gave a satisfying crack. “This is why no one plays chess with you,” she said after a beat of silence. Dimitri flicked an annoyed glance in her direction. Isabel shrugged and turned away towards the kitchen counter.“What? It’s true.” 

Dimitri looked back at his pawns and knights, listening to the quiet, homely clatter of cupboards and kitchen utensils as his friend began dinner preparations.

Back home, he could picture Max likely going through the same motions.

...If he moved THAT pawn, would it leave his queen wide open? Would his knight be able to successfully take her bishop?

“The reason no one plays chess with me is because I don’t want to play chess with them,” he rebutted after a few moments.

“Mmhm,” Isabel hummed, more to fill the silence than anything. She walked over to the freezer and opened it, releasing an almost ghostly chill into the otherwise comfortable kitchen. She sorted through an assortment of vegetables as Dimitri considered the pros and cons of sacrificing his rook.

“And besides, there’s no point in trying to play with anyone at home anyways,” he continued on, oblivious to Isabel’s indifference. Wait, if he did that… would victory be assured? “I had faith in Max, at first, but he doesn’t care enough to learn the rules. It’s a shame, honestly. He’d be great at it.”

“Except he hates boardgames. He’s a card game kind of guy,” Isabel pointed out. With a bag of frozen carrots in her hands she walked back to the stove, surveying the pots and pans she had already laid out. “Do candied carrots and mashed potatoes sound like a good start?”

Dimitri shrugged and fiddled with a pawn thoughtfully. “Don’t ask me. I’m not going to be the one eating it,” he reminded her. Isabel nodded at that, a thoughtful look on her face. Dimitri wouldn’t be so easily distracted. His plan was foolproof. “And of course, the last time I tried to get Johnny to play, he made a  [ giant chess mecha ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZV1bpMamCtY) out of all of the pieces....”

Finally, after 16 minutes and 47 seconds, Dimitri moved his pawn forward.

“The chess mecha Ed posted on Facebook?” Isabel guessed. She walked back to the freezer door, opened it, closed it for several seconds with a blank look on her face, and opened it again. She pulled out a small box of frozen hamburger patties.

“The very same,” Dimitri replied. He relaxed in his chair, comfortable in his assured victory. He watched patiently as Isabel turned the oven on to preheat it and began mixing a bag of instant mashed potatoes on the stove. A small scowl etched itself onto his face and he tapped his foot impatiently. “And don’t even get me started on Ed.”

“Somehow I don’t think you need me to do that all on your own,” she said, more to herself than to Dimitri, as she checked to make sure the stove was lit.

“He doesn’t take anything  _ seriously _ ,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. The way he spoke warned of a rant on the horizon. “He begged me for  _ ages _ to play him in chess, Isabel. Ages after the other two proved useless at it. And do you know what happened when I finally agreed to play a game with him?” 

Isabel knelt down at a nearby cupboard and began searching for a pan; it filled the small kitchen with the soft  _ clanks _ and  _ chinks _ of metal. In a tone that implied that she knew she didn’t want to ask, Isabel replied, “What?”

“He turned the whole thing into a joke!” He snapped, bristling at the very memory. “He turned the whole game into… into…” he trailed off, tripping over his tongue as he tried to find the words to convey his thoughts, “... into a  _ game _ .”

“... You’ve lost me,” Isabel admitted, shooting Dimitri a weird look over her shoulder.

The walking floof sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose, wracking his brain for a better way to explain. “He just… it was like he wasn’t even trying to win,” he finally settled on. He clasped his hands together on top the table absently, leaning back to stare at the ceiling. Isabel went back to the far more important task of finding the pan she needed. “He kept making illogical moves, or coming up with silly stories for his pieces, and he just would not. Stop.  _ Talking, _ ” he sneered, becoming increasingly irritated the more he spoke.

Isabel stood slowly from the cupboard, a skillet tucked firmly in her grasp. “That so?” She said neutrally. She set the pan over the necessary flame on the stove and took stock of everything she had cooking. The warm air coming up from the stove curled the tips of her hair and played with her bangs. A door opened and closed somewhere towards the front of the apartment, indicating someone had just gotten home. Neither Isabel nor her guest paid them any mind.

Dimitri let out a quiet huff, “Very so. I don’t know how you put up with him your entire life,” he replied honestly. Isabel turned around towards him and walked back to her seat, taking a momentary pause in the cooking process to take her turn. She didn’t sit down. Dimitri immediately returned to a more serious, professional posture.  _ Triumph was finally within his reach _ . His patience, finally,  **rewarded** . He watched Isabel’s eyes as she examined the board.

“He’s an acquired taste,” she said, her tone laced with something Dimitri couldn’t place. She reached towards the chessboard… and in a flurry of movement that Dimitri had a hard time following, Isabel declared, “Checkmate.”

The “genius” felt his jaw go slack. He stared at the board with wide, bewildered eyes and tried desperately to figure out she did that. “How did you do that?”

Isabel shrugged, “Ask Ed. He could probably explain it better than me.”

Dimitri slowly looked up at her. He was so sure he’d heard her wrong, “Ask ED?” Isabel nodded. Dimitri suddenly decided he didn’t understand anything anymore. “You’re joking, right?”

The apartment door opened and closed again. Isabel turned back to the stove.

“Who do you think taught me that trick?” Isabel asked, setting a hamburger in the skillet.

The meat on the stove continued to fry, alongside Dimitri's brain.

“I’ve been playing chess with Ed since we were were like, nine, dude,” Isabel told him, slowly and with emphasis. “And you know what?"

“What?” He responded dumbly.

“I haven’t beat him once. You should be happy he went easy on you,” Isabel said, carefully flipping one of the patties over.

Without missing a beat, she added, “He doesn’t extend that courtesy to just anyone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELCOME FRIENDS to the first of a series of one shot stories I wrote April of last year surrounding Glowstickia and I's long running list of interconnecting AUs and the OT4 that spawned from it. 
> 
> The following stories are all in chronological order. And all equally ridiculous. I hope you don't take any of this too seriously and enjoy the ride.


	2. Otherwise Known as "Pyrite"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> C8H11NO2+C10H12N2O+C43H66N12O12S2, otherwise known as "love".

Johnny Jhonny was not the smartest person he knew. He wouldn’t even go as far to say he was the sixth smartest. He couldn’t tell you the chemical equation for hydrogen, or actual name for [Fool’s](http://archiveofourown.org/series/288578) [Gold](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4415162). He couldn’t tell you the name of historical figures or their significance unless they were really, super cool. He  _ could _ criticize your grammar, but he could also butcher his own the very next moment, just because.

No, Johnny knew he wasn’t smart in the way he knew Dimitri was smart. He was fine with that.

But there was one thing Johnny knew better than anyone else, Dimitri included.

Johnny knew how to read people.

It came easy to him, like stealing a scooter or winning a fight. Body language, eye contact, microexpressions… Johnny had figured them all out before he ever learned the terms existed. He’d just had a knack for it and had only ever improved as he got older. Words before murds came in handy on some occasions, after all… even if he was still more likely to punch someone and ask questions later. People were easier to understand when their emotions ran high, and what better way to make that happen then to fight them?

But even if he wasn’t trying to deck a person, Johnny knew enough to get what he wanted out of anyone he talked to. He enjoyed figuring out their tics and tells; the little things they didn’t realize they were doing.  And he took great pride in his accuracy.

In attempting to woo the ever loving heck out of Max their Junior year, Johnny learned quickly. He learned how to get on Max’s good side and he learned which lines he wasn’t allowed to cross. Relaxed Max, trying his best to look cranky and not smile? Tease until that smile wins the fight. Tense Max with tired eyes, who mumbles and avoids conversation? Stay with him and remind him you’re there.

Johnny had a list a mile long in his of everything he knew about Max Puckett; how to read him and how to act in accord. He had similar, smaller lists for most people he knew and cared about. Not for any nefarious purposes, but just because they came in handy.

This was why, when Dimitri told Max and Johnny that he thought he had feelings for Ed, Johnny laughed in his face. Because this wasn’t news to him. He’d had known for months. Johnny had had the time of his life explaining that fact to a very angry Dimitri.

It had been as obvious as the fact that they really just needed to involve Ed in their relationship already.

Honestly, they should have asked him ages ago.


	3. Up in Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You tried.

“I’m gonna be late coming home tonight, do you think you can handle dinner?”

“Of course I can handle dinner. Who do you think you’re talking to?”

If Dimitri had the ability to time travel, he would go back in time and punch himself in the face for being so overconfident.

His eyes stung.

Dimitri stared down at the charred mess on the stovetop in front of him. The remains of what had been meant to be a simple chicken and rice dinner, now burned beyond recognition, stared back at him.  _ Mockingly. _ It was joined by Johnny standing nearby, laughing his head off. He seemed to be unable to decide whether this was the most pitiful thing he’d ever seen, or the most hilarious.

Either way, he wasn’t helping.

Dimitri pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. He didn’t know if it was due to smoke inhalation or Johnny. “Would you knock that off?” he snapped, glaring in the red head’s direction. “This is serious!”

“Seriously  _ hilarious _ ,” Johnny corrected, leaning on the countertop for support. “ ‘If Max can do it,  _ I _ can do it!’ Isn’t that what you said? Isn’t that exactly what you said?” Dimitri groaned and hid his face in his hands. The redhead continued mercilessly. “You haven’t-” Johnny stopped short, cut off by his own laughter, “You’ve hardly been in here  _ 20 minutes _ , dude!” 

The fan above the stovetop whirred. It was doing the most work it had done since Dimitri’d bought this apartment. It, too, held absolutely zero sympathy for Dimitri right now.

Dimitri let out a heavy sigh and let Johnny ride out the last of his amusement; a few chuckles at his expense wasn’t going to kill him.   
  
No, no, his own mortification and shattered pride were going to do that  **just fine.**

“Are you done now?” Dimitri asked after a few moments. Johnny held up one finger in silent askance for him to wait. Dimitri rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. Johnny took a deep, enviable breath and finally looked at Dimitri with a face that radiated pure, absolute seriousness.

It was only ruined by the fact that Johnny couldn’t keep it up, and broke down laughing about three seconds later. He collapsed halfway onto the counter, barely supporting himself with his arms, and Dimitri realized he had lost this battle.

“Why do I even bother?” Dimitri grumbled. He marched past his useless boyfriend and out of the kitchen, laughter trailing after his footsteps. 

The smell of smoke hung heavy in the living room upon entering, even if the smoke itself had long vanished. Ed was sitting on the couch when Dimitri walked in and didn’t look up to greet him. The  _ clicks _ and  _ clacks _ of furious typing filled this particular room, emanating from the laptop situated in the blond’s lap. Ed stared at the computer screen intensely and seemed completely oblivious to the fact that Dimitri had come up behind him. Curiosity overtook his better judgement and he peered over Ed’s shoulder at what he was doing.

Ed didn’t look like he’d moved since the last time Dimitri saw him.

However, Dimitri knew otherwise.

The brunet felt his blood run cold. There were at least fifteen… no, twenty pictures of the debacle that was Dimitri attempting to cook. Ed’s Facebook feed was buzzing with activity and comments, and  _ Ed was still posting. _

Dimitri backed away, betrayal stabbing his heart, and took the long way around. Ed didn’t notice as Dimitri snuck by, too focused on reaping the benefits of ruining Dimitri’s life to pay attention. The grin on Ed’s face sent shivers down Dimitri’s spine as he slunk into his bedroom.

Where he was going to hide for the rest of his life.

Dimitri was not  _ ever _ going to live this down.

The man flopped into his bed and hid his face in his pillow. Briefly, he debated whether or not he might be able to suffocate himself before Max got home, but the buzzing of his phone derailed his train of thought. Dimitri swore under his breath, wishing he’d thought to turn the light on when he walked in, and fumbled around for his phone.

He answered it without a second to spare.

“Hello?”

“Dimitri?” Collin, that was Collin. “Dee it’s Collin.”

Dimitri prayed quietly for the internet to still be down at Collin’s apartment. “Hey Collin. What’s up?” he asked, straining to keep his voice casual. This was fine. It was just Collin.

Somewhere in the background on Collin’s end, Dimitri could hear Stephen screaming.

“Have you been on Facebook recently?”

_ His prayers had gone unanswered. _

Dimitri didn’t answer Collin’s question. It was like he’d been struck and left in a daze, unable to respond to anything at all. He laid flat on his bed, staring up blankly at the ceiling and wondering what he had done in a past life to deserve this. Collin’s concerned voice filtered through the phone’s speaker, unanswered. 

Finally, after several moments of silence, Dimitri spoke. He spoke with the weight of a thousand regrets on his chest, the kind of tone usually restricted to elderly men with too many stories to tell and not enough time. 

“Collin, I need you to get your butt over here and  _ work up a miracle. _ ”

 

**BONUS**

_ Ding. _

Max stepped out of the elevator and onto the third floor of the apartment building. He paused to wave at Norah, the sweet elderly lady from 303, as she attempted for the fifth time this month to get Carol from 312 to join her for dinner and wine. There was a story there, Max knew. He knew and he was too tired right now to care. So he waved and smiled and continued on to his own apartment, the day and his bookbag weighing on him.

He was tired, but more than anything, he was starving.

Max had been worried he was going to have to cook when he got home tonight. It was something he’d have done, if needed, but it was something he really hadn’t been looking forward to. He was beyond glad that Dimitri had stepped up and agreed to do it instead. Dimitri was always reliable like that.

He fished through his pants pockets as he came to a stop outside of 309. Inside he could hear the muffled voices of his roommates, fading in and out and overlapping as they intensely discussed something just out of Max’s hearing range. It drew a fond, amused smile to his face. Max unlocked the door and walked inside.

“Hey, I’m back!”

Three faces looked up to meet him and the mixed reactions immediately clued Max in that something was wrong. Dimitri stood up, almost too quickly, and walked around the coffee table to personally meet him. Johnny and Ed shared a look that Max didn’t want to know the story behind. Instead, he handed off his things to Dimitri’s almost too eager hands and was on the receiving end of a very out of character “welcome home” kiss.

Ed and Johnny’s muffled laughter did nothing help explain _ what the flip _ was going on.

Max gently shoved Dimitri away, staring at him suspiciously while Dimitri did his best to look charming. “What happened?”

“Why do you ask that?” Dimitri asked back, almost too sweetly. The other residents of the apartment were dying on the couch, unable to contain their laughter. Max was worried they were going to hurt themselves at this rate. Dimitri whipped his head around and glared at them to no effect. Their laughter continued.

“That.  _ That’s _ happening,” Max replied, pointing at the blond and the redhead. He poked Dimitri in the nose. “YOU’RE also happening. You’re never this affectionate, like, ever. Who are you and what did you do with Dimitri? Do I need to call an exorcist?”

Dimitri scoffed, incredibly offended. “Please, is it so bad that  _ maybe _ I want you to know that you mean the world to me, Max? That I love you and am blessed every day by the knowledge that you feel the same?”

“.......That’s it I’m calling a priest.”

Dimitri was not given the chance to respond. Collin, to Max’s very sincere surprise, chose that moment to poke his head into the room. “Dinner’s ready!” he said, waving politely at Max when he noticed him.

Max gave Collin a baffled look. He turned to stare at Johnny and Ed, who still hadn’t recovered enough from their laughing fit to properly greet him. Finally, he looked at Dimitri, who was looking guiltier by the second. Max crossed his arms stared at his boyfriend expectantly.

“Do you wanna tell me  _ now _ , or do you want to wait until I hear it from  **them** first?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is my headcanon eternal that Dimitri struggles to admit when he can't do things, and will only admit to his follies after his overconfidence has backfired on him.
> 
> Also, Ed takes capturing the memories in the apartment very, very seriously.


	4. This Feels like Home

Max has to remind himself that they’re there sometimes.

It’s not that he thinks he’s hallucinating, or dreaming, or anything cliche like that. It’s hard to forget that he lives in two apartments with three ridiculously stupid, lovable people. They’re kind of hard not to notice.

But there are nights he lays awake, restless. He lays completely still in bed and just listens; to Dimitri’s heart beat close by his ear, to Johnny’s weirdly quiet snoring, to Ed’s frantic sleep talking. He takes in every little thing about them that he can before exhaustion wins out. 

It almost doesn’t feel real.

What they have feels so, so fragile in the dead of night. 

Like one tremor could strike their lives and shatter it to bits.

Max has to remind himself, sometimes, that Dimitri, Ed, and Johnny are there. 

And that, as far as Max was concerned, they weren’t going anywhere.


	5. Down in Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes all it takes is a single word said in the heat of the moment to make everything come tumbling down.

You’d known this was coming.

In fact, you’d had a sinking feeling in your gut since around noon when you’d reset the wifi and changed password out of spite. Truly, that had set the stage for what just transpired. Or, maybe, it had just been the last straw and instead of finding a place to work things out, the two of you had found a painful needle instead. Was that what was stabbing you in the gut right now? Or was that hunger setting in, because you hadn’t started dinner?

You have no idea how long you’ve been standing in the kitchen when Dimitri walks in, three bags of McDonald’s in his hands and a messenger bag hanging off his shoulder. You didn’t hear him come in. His coat is still on. He’s just home from work.

You’ve been standing here at least 45 minutes, then.

“I’ve got nine voicemails from Johnny,” he says, so conversationally it’s almost like he just commented on how cloudy it’s been recently. You nod wordlessly and register the fact that that your left leg is straining to keep balanced. Your feet prickle with limited blood circulation. Dimitri walks around both you and the broken bowl on the floor. He sets your terrible, unhealthy dinner on the counter next to a bag of slowly thawing peas.

Dimitri turns back around to look at you. He looks at the unused pans sitting next to the stove, clean as they were when you pulled them out of the cupboard. He looks back to you. His face is infuriatingly neutral. “They were all pretty heated,” he says, carefully. He’s staring at you, trying to gauge a reaction. “The voicemails, that is.”

You hate it when he does this.

Or do you just hate it because you’re not in the mood to deal with it?

“Would you stop trying to Sherlock me?” you snap. There’s an edge in your voice, clear and sharp, and you talk like you’re trying to strike a blow. You clench your hands into fists, remembering suddenly that you do, in fact, have hands. Hands that are shaking along with the rest of you. 

You hate when you can’t read him like this. Dimitri doesn’t react to your outburst. Not in any way that’s visible to you, at least. Instead, he just shrugs and turns back to the bags of food on the table. He starts rifling through one of them, pulling out a stack of napkins. “Do you want me to leave?” Like he’s asking how your day was. He pulls out a pair of messily wrapped cheeseburgers. He pulls out a very large container of french fries and sets them next to the napkins. He doesn’t turn around to look at you.

The anger that had briefly reignited in your chest fizzles, returning to bitter embers.

“...No, you don’t have to leave,” you say finally, letting out a sigh. You feel bad he had to ask that. Your eyes fall from Dimitri to the broken bowl at your feet. You’ll need to clean this up sooner rather than later.

“Then if neither of us are going anywhere, get over here and eat.”

You look up. Dimitri’s sitting at the table already, still completely dressed in his work clothes. He hasn’t started eating yet, hasn’t claimed one of the burgers. He’s just sitting there. Waiting. You look down at the bowl at your feet again, following the broken shards with your eyes and remember watching them explode less than an hour ago. Everything is still so fresh in your head. Everything still hurts. You step around the mess carefully and slowly make your way to the table. Your bare feet try to stick to the floor as you walk. It’s cold.

The minute you’re seated, Dimitri shoves a burger in your direction. You look at it, feeling less than hungry, and wonder how much food he brought home. You eye the bags and ignore the nausea that rises in your gut. He bought three bags worth of food and has only taken food out of one. What else did he order?  Was he unsure of what to get you? Was he personally just really hungry? Was he expecting Johnny to come home tonight? 

_ Johnny _ . The thought of him would have been enough to ruin your appetite, if you had one.  _ You _ certainly weren’t expecting to see  _ him _ again tonight. You were sure Johnny was staying with Ollie, Stephen, RJ, and Collin. Right now, he was probably telling them all of the details from your fight and-

“Max. Hey.”

You meet Dimitri’s stare and try to reign your focus back in. He’s staring at you. You still can’t read him. “What?” you ask.

“Either you eat, or you tell me what happened.”

You bite your tongue to stop yourself from snapping at him again. He’s just trying to help. “What if I don’t wanna talk?”

He chews, shrugs, and swallows. “Then eat.”

You bristle in your seat. “What if I’m not hungry?”

“Eat anyways,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You glare at him for that. He shrugs, again, and nods at the burger lying wrapped in front of you. “I know you well enough to know you haven’t actually eaten since, like, 2pm. Eat, Max.”

You prod at your food, shooting Dimitri a skeptical look, “Are we sure this even counts as food?”

Dimitri rolls his eyes at your attempted subject chance and you barely hide a grin. Finally, he reacts to something.

“It’s edible and it contains more than enough calories. It counts.”

“Pretty sure the same could be said about cardboard.”

“ _ Max. _ ”

You’re smiling before you catch yourself and Dimitri lets out an annoyed huff. “What? I’m just saying.”

Dimitri shoots you a flat look across the table, clearly not nearly as amused by this as you are. “Well I’m sorry my McDonald’s doesn’t appeal to your  _ sophisticated palate _ , but you’re clearly in no condition to be cooking so you’ll just have to deal,” he says, taking a vindictive bite out of his food. His comment stings a little, taking the wind out of your sails and serving as a reminder that Johnny’s not here to either help Dimitri, or help you defend yourself against him.

You look over at the broken bowl on the floor again.

“...What did he say?” you ask quietly. “Johnny’s voicemails, what did he say in them?”

Dimitri gives you the single most infuriating shrug you’ve ever seen and you silently wish his shoulders would just fall off already. “I feel like it’s better for you to talk before you hear what he has to say,” Dimitri responds. “You know, keep it from coloring your perceptions and all that.”

You didn’t understand a word of that. “Well what if I don’t wanna talk?” you ask, huffing more than a little childishly. Dimitri raised an eyebrow at you across the table and you sink down in your chair under his weirdly stern gaze.

“If you don’t want to talk, then you eat. We’ve been over this Max,” Dimitri says, shaking his head like a disappointed parent. He pauses then, in that way that always makes you suspicious of what he’s going to say next. He thinks he’s subtle. He’s really, really not. “I know you’re burned out from finals, but come on dude, I know your hearing is still working.”

You snap before you catch yourself. “I am NOT burned out!”

“Really? Voicemails said otherwise,” Dimitri shoots back, setting his elbows on the table. He clasps his hands together, loosely tenting his fingers. You know what he’s doing. You know exactly what he’s doing and you can’t stop yourself from doing exactly what he expects.

“Well  _ screw _ the voicemails!” you snarl, your own voice loud and out of place in the otherwise quiet apartment. You’re about to start yelling. You’re shaking you’re so mad, all of the anger coming back at once. All it needed was a spark. “What does HE know anyways? Waltzing around like he doesn’t have his own junk to be doing and getting mad when I don’t join in, what the  _ flip _ is up with that?”

Dimitri cranes his head towards you, face as neutral as Switzerland. “Hard to do that when you change the wifi password on him,” he comments.

“I couldn’t think of anything else TO do!” You stand so quickly, so forcefully, you nearly knock over your chair. Your food is forgotten at this point. You don’t care that Dimitri makes a good point. You know denying him the wifi was unfair, but you also don’t care. “I told him to stop and he just. Kept.  **Doing it!** ‘Max, come watch  _ Terrifying Situations 15: Pumpkin Sacrifice _ with me!’ ‘Max, come look at this funny video Collin posted on Facebook!’ ‘Max, there’s a really cute dog on the sidewalk you should see!’ ‘Max, stop working on the essay that could decide the very fate of your life and come play with me!” you mock, echoing the lines Johnny had tried using to convince you for half the night.

“Did he actually say that last one?” Dimitri asks. Despite all of your animated gestures and inability to stand still, he hasn’t moved an inch. It’s almost unnerving.

“Well… no,” you admit, stopping at the edge of the table. You’d started pacing. When had you started pacing? You look away from Dimitri and try to ignore the growing seed of doubt he’s planted. You sigh, “But that’s what it  _ felt _ like he was doing.”

“But that  _ wasn’t _ what he was doing,” Dimitri responds, patient and attentive. His plan is working perfectly and you’re suddenly too tired to be mad about even  _ that _ .

You take a deep breath, irritation still clear on your face. “I  _ know _ that. I know what he was  _ trying _ to do, but-”

“What was he trying to do?” Dimitri cuts in. 

You glare at him. 

He shrugs. 

You feel oddly like you’re on trial.

You stumble trying to find an answer for him, growing increasingly angry as words keep failing you. Dimitri waits, watching you open and close your mouth until you give up and ask, “What does it matter what he was  _ trying _ to do?”

“Because what he was  _ trying _ to do and what he  _ did _ do are two separate things,” Dimitri answers, staring straight at you. You swallow nervously, unsure of where he’s going with this. “Clearly he wasn’t trying to ruin your life. Well, probably. We’re not going to assume. So what else would he have been doing?” 

“He... “ You hesitate a moment longer than you want to admit. You sigh again, quieter this time, and a little defeated. “He was trying to help me relax, I guess,” you mumble. You clench and unclench your hands, feeling the anger inside of you die off.

Your answer hangs in the air between the two of you for what feels like ages. The chill of the kitchen tile sinks into your feet and sends chills through your body. If you listen closely enough, you can hear Dimitri breathing and the people in the apartment above you talking. Your hands relax of their own volition, hanging numbly at your side. Dimitri’s chair whines against the floor as he stands and his soft, solid footsteps walk around the table. He stops right in front of you.

“You know he wasn’t trying to upset you,” Dimitri’s voice is careful and controlled, like he’s trying hard to keep his own voice steady.

“I  _ know _ that…” your voice cracks. Cold, god you feel cold. Why is that all you feel right now? “He was trying to help, I  _ know _ … Why couldn’t he just  _ listen to me? _ ”

You look up finally to meet Dimitri’s eyes, desperate for anything that halfway resembles an answer. His right hand has taken your left one, intertwining a few of your fingers in a way that’s oddly comforting. Dimitri let’s out a quiet, subdued breath. It’s as if the weight on his shoulders just increased tenfold. “Because Johnny doesn’t listen once he gets an idea in his head.”

You know he’s right.

You knew he was right before he even said a word.

You knew he was right over an hour ago.

Exhaustion settles in your bones, heavy and hollow now without your anger staving it off like a raging campfire. "He just... I just..." you trail off, feeling hopelessly lost as you struggle with what you’re supposed to feel right now. Dimitri pulls you close, wrapping an arm around you while his other hand holds your own tight. He hugs you as you try and pull yourself together, but break apart instead. Tears well in your eyes and blur your vision.

Johnny had told you once that anger was a secondary emotion that protected us from feelings we didn’t want to deal with.

You can almost hear him say it in your head and it makes you sick with guilt. You hiccup, quiet and muffled into Dimitri’s neck, and his hold on you tightens. He smells like ink and paper and sweat and  **_work_ ** and somehow that fact makes everything so much more worse.

When did you start shaking? 

The tears falling from your eyes drip down your cheek and spatter on the kitchen tile. You lean into Dimitri, letting out everything that had been eating away at you. Stress. Anger. Guilt. Frustration. Desperation. Dimitri lets you cry, mumbling in your ear what you can only assume to be words of comfort, but you’re not paying enough attention to really know. Your brain is running at a mile a minute and you can’t keep up.

“What if he doesn’t come back?” you demand, fear obvious in your teary voice. You pull away just far enough from Dimitri to look at him. “What if this was the final straw and I finally drove him away?”

Dimitri shakes his head, bringing a hand up to wipe some of the tears off your face. “Let’s get you cleaned up and fed before we get in on that round of questions, ok?” he suggests gently. He tries to guide you towards the living room, treating you like a fragile doll he doesn’t want to accidentally break.

You ignore him and try to move away, “I’m  _ serious  _ Dimitri!”

_ “So am I.”  _

The steel in his voice shocks you into compliance. Is he losing patience with you, or just at a loss of what to do? Dimitri wraps one of his arms around your shoulders both in a comforting half hug and as a means of curbing any escape attempts. He moves the both of you, pointing your feet in the direction of the bathroom, and starts to walk. You don’t mind letting him do all the work at this point and follow without a word. He’s warm at your side, but somehow not warm enough.

The McDonalds on the table lays cold and forgotten by both of you now. You don’t think it’s ever going to be eaten. The only person who likes cold McDonald's is Johnny, and he isn’t here. You let yourself be guided from the kitchen by Dimitri’s patient coaxing; past the broken bowl on the floor, past the pots and pans on the stove, past Johnny’s laptop sitting on the countertop that has long gone to sleep.

He leads you into the living room and it hits you all at once that the reason it’s so quiet is because Johnny isn’t there to fill the silence through sheer presence of being there.

Fresh tears spring in your eyes and you stop short, catching Dimitri off guard. 

It’s so, so quiet.

Dimitri looks at you with eyes full of worry;  like he has no idea what to do. You don’t know what to do either. You wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his chest. You’re tired. You’re tired of crying. You’re tired and cold and  _ why couldn’t you have just along with Johnny’s shenanigans for once instead of being such a jerk _ _?_ Dimitri awkwardly wraps his arms around your shoulders, unsure of what to make of the sudden and desperate hug.

"I just want him to come  _ back _ , Dimitri," you mumble pathetically.

He hesitates before he answers you. You can feel it in the way he tenses, even if you can’t see his face. He lifts one of his hands and starts running it through your hair and you feel like you’re seven years old again. What is it with redheads, always making you cry? What did you ever do to them?

“He’ll come back,” Dimitri tells you. He sounds so sure and you can’t help but envy his confidence. His voice is tired in your ear and you can hear his heartbeat through his work clothes. His breathing is shallow, almost matching yours, and it’s the only reason you know he’s just as upset as you are. “He’ll come back, Max.”

You hug him tighter. You don’t know if you believe him.

Neither of you move for a long, long time. Truthfully, you don’t know how long the two of you stand in the middle of your too empty, too quiet apartment wrapped in each other's arms. 

No one walks through the door that night to help you gauge the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This short is the start of what I like to call "why is all this angst written like you took it out of a bad Homestuck fanfic".


	6. A Little Thing Called "Doubt"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [♪ I've got this feeling. Inside my bones ♪](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CqKD2f_uy4E)

It’s hard to tell where you stand with them sometimes. You’ve been dating for five months, as of last Monday, and somehow you still feel like an outsider. Like you’re intruding on something you never had the right to be a part of. It’s a sickly, slimy feeling that’ll worm it’s way into your chest like it was patiently awaiting an opportunity. 

When Max laughs so hard that he snorts at something witty Dimitri whispers just out of range of your hearing, it slithers around your tongue and makes it heavy.

When you walk into the living room and see Johnny absently playing with Dimitri’s hair while the other rests in his lap with a book, it crawls between your ribs and leaves them sticky for hours.

When Max and Johnny look at each other across the dinner table for a split second, but manage to hold an entire conversation with no words said between them, it wriggles in your esophagus and chokes your words.

And when they all bust up laughing over something that holds no meaning to you?

It coils around your heart and it  _ squeezes _ .

You’ve been dating the three of them for five months, as of last Monday.

It’s felt a lot less like dating and a lot more like trying to play catch up.


	7. No Light, No Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In your place were a thousand other faces. It's a conversation that I just can't have tonight.

"Just  _ tell me what you WANT ME TO SAY! _ "

And he whirls on you, so quickly that it takes you a second to register that you're no longer looking at his back. His glasses are askew, off that particular angle that always manages to hide part of his face behind a sheen of light. He's staring directly at you; reddened, wide eyes that are a whirlpool of desperation, hurt, and helplessness. He looks so lost. 

You find yourself at a loss of words. You open your mouth and close it. You stare at each other for what seems like eons.

"Just talk, Ed… " the words tumble out of your mouth, quiet and less than graceful. His eyes harden and you cut off his sarcastic response before it leaves his lips. " _ Talk _ to us. Stop pretending to be so happy go lucky for once in your life!” you demand, steeling yourself for the confrontation that’s to come. You had had a speech worked out for when you walked in here. You struggle a little to remember how it starts. “Say what’s on your mind! Stop smiling when you're sad. Quit hiding when you're upset…You're worrying Max and you're lucky I cornered you before Johnny did."

Apt, really, what you said. Ed is the picture of a cornered, wild animal: coiled and ready to do anything to get free. One of the things you used to hate about sharing two apartments with Max and Johnny was that no matter where you went, they could find you. You couldn't hide. Now though, you think it's quite the advantage.

You're all happier when you stop hiding and talk.

Some of the bite leaves Ed's posture and something very close, but not quite like defeat weighs his shoulders down. He hiccups, quiet and nearly inaudible, and you can tell he's trying his damndest to not break down in front of you.

You take a step closer. He takes a step back.

"I... I didn't mean to worry you guys," he says, quick and quiet, trying desperately to change the topic of conversation to something other than himself.

You take a step closer. He takes a step back.

"As Johnny has told me too many times to count, apparently that's what we're here for. To worry over each other. To make sure we're doing well," you pause, unable to stop yourself from wondering if he'd picked that up from O'Connor at some point, but quickly dismiss the thought. "It doesn't help that you were up against  **me** , Ed Burger."

You take a step closer. In his confusion, Ed freezes.

"...What?" A bit of Ed's normal deadpan is in that tone. You think that counts as progress.

"I make it my job to understand people. Know how they work, see how they tick... know how to read their intentions before they figure it out themselves," you take a step closer. Ed, noticing you gained more ground, takes several clumsy steps back and nearly hits his nightstand. "And you were always hard to read. You took years to figure out, Ed. Literal  _ years _ . Because you fashioned this nice mask for yourself... the weird, cowardly goofball with the big glasses."

You take a step closer. Ed's back hits a wall.

"And you wear it really, really well... but it's not perfect," you continue on, closing the distance between the two of you as Ed tries to find a way around you and to the door. Not that that would help. Johnny and Max know you're in here, and they're waiting in the living room. They just let you go first. "Even when it slips, it's hard to tell, but the cracks are there. Your smile's too wide. Your laugh is off key. You're jumpier and you always try to hide."

He's staring up at you now and you're close enough to see how uneven his breathing has gotten. You're personally amazed you haven't gone off monologue yet and screwed this entire thing up. Ed looks positively dazed, somewhere between crying and getting mad at you, and you're not going to let him choose his reaction.

"I know all of this because I CARE about you, Ed. I would even go as far as to say I love you, which is really hard for me to say about anyone. Max and Johnny? They love you too. You have so many people willing to be there for you, Ed. People that care about you."

You throw your arms around his shoulders and hug him close, nestling your chin in his hair. There's a split second of dead silence.

The dam breaks.

Ed collapses into you, sobs wracking his entire, tinier than normal frame as you carefully move so you're both sitting on the floor. He cries into your shoulder, snotty and apologetic, trying to say words, but failing to make any sense. You rub soothing circles on his back and let him stain your favorite tshirt.

After several minutes the sobs die down.

He feels so small in your arms, you're almost afraid you might break him.

"Ed?"

A brief pause, a quiet "yeah?" that's muffled by a hoarse throat and fabric.

"From now on, I'm not going to let you hide from us anymore. I will always find you, no matter what. Do you understand?"

Ed shakes in your arms and you're afraid he's about to start crying again. Quiet, incredibly amused laughter hits your ears instead and throws you for a loop. You fail to catch yourself before you look at him, highly offended. "Excuse you, I was being serious."

Ed's still snickering in your arms. You huff quietly and pull back, look at his face. He's looking at you, a mess from crying, but a teasing smile plays on his lip, "Geez, dramatic much?" he asks, smile slowly widening into a grin. "Should I be calling you Dimitri or [DJ Copper right now?](http://archiveofourown.org/series/421606)"

You blush and pull him into a hug before he notices.

He totally notices.

"I should have let Johnny deal with you," you grumble, totally not at all flustered.

Ed wraps his arms around your middle and nestles his head in the crick of your shoulder. You can feel him smiling.

"I'm glad it was you."

You pause.

You smile and hold him a little more tenderly.

"I'm glad it was me, too."


	8. Radiant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes love is reminding your loved one how you bullied them in high school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: As of recent pages of the comic, a few things in this chapter have been proven unlikely and pretty much impossible because no one can defeat Ed Burger in combat. But this was written a year ago and I don't feel like figuring out how to change it, so YOLO.

There’s a very short list of things that Johnny refuses to tolerate within the walls of the apartment.

  1. Leaving only the heels of the bread in the bag after using the rest of the loaf
  2. Dimitri’s weird obsession with golf when it takes over the T.V.
  3. Ordering pizza with anchovies on date night
  4. Max’s insistence on weirdly scented hand soap
  5. Anyone touching his morning crosswords
  6. Ed’s annoying habit of evading conversations he was also attempting to initiate



That last one was currently very relevant. 

For what had to be the hundredth time this morning, Johnny watches out of the corner of his eye as Ed pokes his head into the kitchen, stares for a few seconds at Johnny, and hides again. Almost like clockwork. Ed doesn’t realize, Johnny thinks, that the blond isn’t as subtle as he thinks he is. Ed thinks he’s being sneaky. In reality, it’s kind of hard not to notice him. Johnny could feel his nervous energy from halfway across the apartment even before Ed parked himself on the other side of the kitchen counter.

The leeching anxiety was enough to make  _ him _ feel on edge. Johnny doesn’t think he’ll make it if Ed keeps this up the rest of the day.

He wishes the dope would just come talk to him already.

_ Seven lettered word used to describe a bright smile _

He taps his pen on the kitchen table, frowning down at his crossword. Bright was too short. Glowing was too long. Shining conflicted with the row that went down through it. How many synonyms were there, anyways? 

“Seven letters?” Johnny grumbles quietly to himself. He turns words over in his head and tries to make them fit in the limited space provided. The gears in his head whir, churning closer and closer to an answer. It was right there… just on the tip of his tongue…

Like clockwork, Ed peeks over the counter. His glasses catch the light of the morning sun and nearly blind Johnny with how brightly they shine.

The word vanishes, just as Johnny is certain he has it.

_ BANG _

Johnny slams his hands on the table. The plastic casing of his pen cracks under the abuse, staining his left hand blue. On the other side of the counter there’s a surprised squawk as Ed ducks out of sight. Johnny glares at where the other’s head was approximately three seconds ago. He grits his teeth and forces the burning desire to set something on fire out of his system. Aggravation and frustration simmer in his veins, then, just hot enough that his blood is almost boiling. A dangerous, dangerous concoction.

This had officially gone on long enough.

They’re going to talk whether Ed wants to or not.

Johnny stands slowly and deliberately from the table, careful not to let the ink spread anymore than it already has. Man, Max is going to kill him when he gets home if he forgets to clean this up. The chair squeaks pitifully across the kitchen tile as the redhead moves. Johnny walks around to the other side of the table with loud, purposeful steps and, with the same menacing stride, towards the door leading into the living room. This was the only warning Ed was getting. If his stupid, blond boyfriend wanted to make this difficult for him, then Johnny had no problem returning the favor.

The door to the living room opens in a mostly smooth arch, catching briefly on the rug just on the other side of it. Johnny rolls his eyes and walks fully into the living room, eyes roaming the area like a predator after its prey. Johnny squints. The living room was… quiet. Not that it normally wasn’t this time of day; Max was at school, Dimitri had left to run errands and left the T.V. on some weird documentary about tennis balls. Ed was normally still asleep this time of morning, adding to the growing list of out of character things he was doing today.

Speaking of Ed, he wasn’t in the living room.

Johnny frowns and wonders where he might have hidden himself at.

A floorboard creaks somewhere near the front door and blond flashes in Johnny’s peripherals. He whips his head to the side just in time to see Ed book it out the door, barely closing it behind him.

_ He was making a run for it. _

Johnny snarls, low, angry, and like he’s just been issued a challenge. He doesn’t follow Ed out the door. No. He knows that’s pointless. Ed’s always been a very, very quick runner; if there was one thing Johnny remembers from middle school it’s that to catch Ed Burger, you have to have the element of surprise.

So Johnny doesn’t go through the front door.

He makes a beeline to the balcony.

He slams the sliding door open, making the glass shudder in its casing. He doesn’t bother to close it. Johnny marches to the railing and stares at the balcony just to the left of the one he’s standing on. He’s seen Max do this a million times. It can’t be that hard, can it?

Johnny only hesitates for a second.

Max just makes it look so easy.

Johnny’s landing is rough and awkward and it takes concentrated effort to not stumble over the other balcony’s railing. Johnny takes a moment to congratulate himself on his budding parkour skillz before he darts into and through their other apartment. He hears the doorknob jiggling frantically, like the person on the other side is struggling with the key. The doorknob’s offended clattering over its mistreatment goes ignored by everyone within earshot.

Johnny’s joints ache, but not enough to distract him from his mission.

He launches himself over the arm of the loveseat, nearly face planting into the other arm. Johnny flounders a bit, trying to right himself as he hears a faint  _ click _ emanate from the front door. He positions himself as casually as possible, sprawled across the cushions, and snags one of Dimitri’s dumb chess magazines off the coffee table. It’s upside down, but that isn’t what matters right now.

The door bursts open.

Ed bolts through, slamming it loudly behind him like a ghost is after him. Johnny can hear him breathing, quick and panicked, and the redhead sinks a bit further into the loveseat and out of sight. Without looking he knows that Ed is watching the door. Ed is waiting for him to come banging on it and break it down, or whatever the heck his favorite idiot is imagining right now.

Johnny doesn’t fight the smirk that slinks its way onto his face.

There’s a solid minute and a half of silence only punctuated by Ed breathing. Johnny itches with the need to get up and move, but he waits. He’s set this up so well already, he isn’t going to ruin it now.

Ed starts to move. Slow, sock covered foot falls slowly draw away from the door and into the apartment. Johnny stares intently at the upside down picture of a random guy with a bald head and a sweater vest. Ed walks near the loveseat, making his way around it as he more than likely heads towards one of the bedrooms. Blond flashes in Johnny’s peripherals as Ed passes by.

“Fancy meeting you here, my dude.”

The other man freezes like a teenager caught coming home after curfew. For dramatic effect, Johnny flips a page of the magazine before slowly looking up to meet Ed’s eyes. The look of shock and horror on his face makes all of the effort to get to this couch so, totally  _ worth it. _

In a voice that drips politeness more than his hair drips dye, Johnny says, “You look like you wanna talk to me about something,” he sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the couch, setting the magazine back on the table. He pats the spot next to him, inviting Ed to take a seat. Ed hesitates. He shuffles nervously where he stands and casts wistful glances at the door, his entire posture  _ screaming _ “about to run”. Johnny clears his throat loudly and glares pointedly. Ed’s head turns sharply to look at him, and what Johnny gleans from what he can read of his expression, Ed is weighing his options.

Johnny stares him down, hard and steadfast. He hasn’t really had to intimidate anyone seriously since high school, but Johnny certainly hasn’t lost his talent for it.

Ed cracks faster than an egg dropped off of a third floor balcony. He slinks around the coffee table the long way and the moment he’s within reach, Johnny snatches Ed’s wrist with a vice-like grip. The redhead pulls Ed forcefully onto the loveseat next to him, dangerously close and with very little room to escape. Ed stumbles and almost falls onto the couch. The whole scene reminds Johnny of the very few times this nearly exact scenario played out in middle school. Nearly exact. There were walls and lockers involved last time, and Isabel isn’t here to save the day today.

Though honestly, Johnny knows whose side she’d totally be on if she  _ was _ here.

Johnny lowers an arm around Ed’s shoulder like someone lowering the bars on a cell door.

Ed looks like a man sentenced to death. He tries to hunch in on himself, away from Johnny, but only succeeds in making Johnny pull him even closer. The bespectacled blond stares intently at his lap and plays with his hands anxiously. The silence in the apartment is almost deafening.

Johnny sighs quietly through his nose. Ed winces at the sound in anticipation. “Alright Ed, there’s two ways we can do this,” Johnny says. The other man fidgets silently and Johnny can’t help but think, with mild irritation, that he thought they were past this sort of thing. “Either you talk, completely willingly, or I will find a way to _make you_ _talk._ ”

In reality there was only one way they were doing this, but Johnny liked to give the illusion of choice.

Ed doesn’t reply for several moments, mulling over his decision. Johnny lets him think. He waits patiently in the silence, staring at his own reflection in Dimitri’s dark flatscreen and feeling Ed breathe quietly beside him. Through the open balcony door the faint sound of birds chirping flits in. It’s accompanied by the faint thrum of passing cars on the road below, creating an oddly sleepy mix of noises that fit the morning to a T. The sun sits high in the cloudless sky, marking the start of a brisk, but beautiful day.

Johnny truly hopes that the four of them will be able to enjoy it  _ together.  _ He takes a deep breath and lets out a quiet sigh in the silence that’s settled between himself and Ed. The apartment smells very Dimitri-y; clean cut like paper but saturated in in the stench of microwave T.V. dinners. Honestly, how had Dimitri even survived until he and Max had come onto the scene? It was a thought that haunted Johnny every time Dimitri hung around the kitchen as Max cooked dinner...

“Can we talk about Max?” Ed’s voice cuts through Johnny’s thoughts, soft and nervous, and Johnny turns his head to look at him. Ed slips his glasses off and folds them neatly together. He holds onto them in his lap, staring down at them for a couple of seconds before turning to meet Johnny’s stare. This time, it’s Johnny that almost has to look away. The difference between Ed with and without his glasses always catches him off guard.

Like he’s looking at something he’s not supposed to see.

Johnny forces himself to focus. He relaxes the arm around Ed’s shoulders and turns to look at him head on. “Yeah, ‘course we can,” he answers honestly.

Ed fidgets in silence for a few moments. He opens his mouth and closes it, repeating the process a few times as he works out what he wants to say. “How do you…” he chews his lip. Johnny rubs his thumb on Ed’s shoulder patiently. The blond sighs a quiet and frustrated sigh, his face scrunching up as he tries to find the right words. “When Max is upset, what do you do fix it?”

Johnny blinks. “What do you mean ‘upset’?” he asks, confusion apparent in his voice. He tries to think of anytime recently Ed has done something to irritate Max and draws up too many conclusions. 

“Like…” Ed waves one of his hands around, gesturing vaguely with his glasses as he tries to articulate his thoughts, “... like when Max is really, really sluggish around the house out of nowhere? Like he’s tired and he’s trying to do things, but he’s not all there and it’s hard to make him smile,” he explains. Ed frowns, as if unsure if his explanation made sense, but soldiers on anyways. “I don’t know what to do when he’s like that and it just sort of… hurts, a lot.”

Ed sighs. “I want to be able to do something to make him feel better,” he states. His voice is quiet when he speaks, tinged with a type of frustration that Johnny recognizes immediately. “I asked him about it a couple of days ago. Like, asked if there was anything I could do…”

“What did he say?” Johnny asks. He grabs Ed’s hand, the one that’s holding his glasses, and pries Ed’s fingers just enough apart to interlace their pinkies. 

As Johnny expects, Ed finds solace in the supportive gesture. When he speaks next, he seems to find his words easier. “He told me to just  _ be there _ for him,” Ed answers, a frown so evident in his voice that Johnny doesn’t need to look. “But I don’t understand what that means! Am I supposed to just hug him every time he looks sad? Do I just leave him alone unless he asks me to do something else? Is what I’m doing now even doing  _ anything _ to fix what’s wrong?”

Ed attempts to throw his hands up in frustration, but Johnny prevents the movement by holding on tighter. Ed looks to him with wide, frantic eyes and Johnny is hit with an unpleasant sense of deja vu. It reminds him of late nights spent agonizing over miscommunications. Loud, violent arguments that nearly cost him the first of three loves in his life. 

“You can’t  _ fix _ it, Ed,” Johnny answers finally, breaking a heavy silence. He sighs deeply. Ed shifts next to him, unnerved more than likely by the sudden, serious air he’s adopted. “It’s not a thing to be fixed; it’s just a part of Max. All you can really do is try and make it easier on him when it happens.”

“But  _ how _ ?” Ed asks, stressing the question. “How do I help? What do you do?”

“I’ll wrap him up in a blanket and sit him down on the couch and make him watch crappy movies with me for a couple of hours,” Johnny answers with a shrug. “Make sure he eats something and stays hydrated and stuff.”

Ed stares at him skeptically. “And that works?”

“Sometimes, yeah,” Johnny says quietly. He leans against the back of the couch. There’s a thoughtful look on his face as he turns over his next choice of words. “But sometimes… sometimes you just have to let him be  _ sad _ . There isn’t a magical cure or anything like that and sometimes no matter what you try, it’s just not gonna work. Max just has to work it out on his own sometimes.”

Ed deflates visibly. That was clearly not the answer he was hoping for, even if it is the truth. “Then what am I supposed to do?” 

Johnny takes a deep breath and forces his shoulders to relax. “Just do what he told you to do: be there for him. Start a dumb conversation. Make him laugh. Find a way to distract him. Heck, even just being physically there is usually enough sometimes.”

“I’m hearing a lot of  _ sometimes _ , Johnny,” Ed complains, moving away to get a better look at the redhead. Ed shoots him an expectant look. He watches Johnny scratch his head and sigh, staring off into the distance out the open balcony door.

“The sads vary in intensity,” Johnny responds, eloquent as always. “There’s a lot of ways you can try and help, but you’ve gotta figure out which ways work with which sads. That’s why there’s a lot of  _ sometimes _ … because it’s a lot of trial, and a lot of error.”

“Well… what if I mess up?” Ed asks quietly. He grips Johnny’s hand nervously and looks away. “What if I make it worse?”

Johnny doesn’t look at him. “He won’t hate you for trying, Ed,” he says softly. “He’ll seem mad, but you have to learn to try and not take anything too personal when he’s like that.”

“You sound like you’re talking from experience,” Ed observes, frowning slightly. He moves his hands in Johnny’s and pulls the redhead closer. Carefully, as though he thinks he’s touched a sore spot. Johnny doesn’t respond immediately. He stares off past the city skyline without really looking at it. He clenches his hand around Ed’s. Ed freezes, and barely a second passes before apologies are tumbling out of his mouth, “O-oh geez, I’m sorry, if you don’t wanna talk about it that’s fine, I shouldn’t have said anything, I’ll-”

Johnny pulls Ed into a very abrupt hug. Ed snaps his mouth shut, too surprised to finish his sentence.

“You’re  _ fine _ ,” Johnny says, his voice something close to reassuring. “It’s old news, water under the bridge, all that junk…. Max and me weren’t always as good with each other as we are now. I can admit that. We fought a lot in our early days… middle school  _ notwithstanding _ , get that smirk off your face,” Johnny chides, poking Ed in the side painfully. Ed winces, but snickers nonetheless into Johnny’s collar. Johnny rolls his eyes. “We had to work really, really hard to get to where we are now, Ed. And we’re gonna work tomorrow and the day after that, and we’re probably gonna work until we’re dead. And even then we’ll probably still be working because we’re both too stubborn to die.”

Johnny pulls away puts Ed at arms length, one hand on his shoulder. Ed watches him nervously, but doesn’t look away. “Love means you never stop working to make it work. You’re working too, Ed, even if you don’t think you are.”   
  
Ed cracks a small smile. “That sounds like an awful lot of work.”

Johnny pokes him again and Ed laughs. “I am TRYING to be serious here,” Johnny huffs, scowling in an attempt to stave off a smile. “And it  _ is _ a lot of work. But it’s worth it.”   
  
“Even when Max orders anchovy pizza, or Dimitri won’t give up the T.V. because of the golf championship?” Ed asks, smile widening into a grin.

“Or when you’re poking your head into the kitchen like you’re afraid I’ll bite it off?” Johnny teases, smirking as Ed decides that his hands are very interesting to look at. Johnny carefully grabs Ed’s chin and turns the blond’s head around to look at him, far too pleased with the blush on Ed’s face. He places a quick, chaste kiss on the other’s lips and responds, “Yes. It’s worth it.”

Ed groans, loud and flustered, and tries in vain to hide his face in his hands. Alas, Johnny still has his hands hostage. Ed decides instead to hide his face awkwardly in the cushions of the backrest. Johnny gives an amused snort.

“Oh  _ come on _ , it isn’t like this is the first time I’ve ever kissed you you  _ dweeb _ .”

“Shush your face,” came Ed’s muffled response. Johnny laughs again, louder this time as Ed tries burying his face further out of sight. Johnny rolls his eyes again and pulls Ed’s face back into the light before he hurts himself. Ed pouts at him. Johnny just grins.

“Feel better, now that you actually talked it out?” Johnny asks, lapsing briefly back into seriousness.

Ed pauses before nodding, a slow and thoughtful movement as he mulls over all of the information he’s gained. He carefully extracts one of his hands from Johnny’s, the one holding his glasses, and sets his spectacles back on his face. He clasps Johnny’s hand in his own again and pulls the both of them off the couch. Johnny follows without any qualms, a smile growing on his lips at the return of Ed’s enthusiasm.

“Thanks, Johnny,” Ed says, the sincerity in his voice as clear as the radiant smile on his face.

Something in Johnny’s head clicks.  _ Seven lettered word used to describe a bright smile… _

“THAT’S IT!” he shouts, throwing his hands in the air and nearly smacking Ed in the face. Without so much as an explanation, Johnny kisses Ed and darts around him, making a beeline for the balcony and, more importantly, his unfinished crossword.

Ed watches him dart off with a very blank, confused expression, feeling the shattered pieces of the moment they were having rain down around him. 

They were really going to have to work on that.


	9. A vs B vs Dee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4 am is a magical and really weird time of day.

There are nights that Dimitri wakes up to the faint, nonsensical voice of Ed that somehow carries all the way from the living room and through Dimitri’s bedroom door. Words that lost their meaning trying to bridge the distance, intonations felt more than understood, and the inevitable, confusing bits that Dimitri actually managed to catch.  He knows exactly what Ed’s doing. He’s narrating infomercials like he always does when he can’t sleep. It’s so common an occurrence that Dimitri had taken the time to survey his options in regards to how to deal with it ages ago.

He could either:

  * a) Ignore it and roll over. Ed will tire himself out, as always, and Max will probably find him passed out on the couch in the morning and nag him for falling asleep with the T.V. on.



Or

  * b) Go out and sit with him. Provide some company and make sure he makes it into   an actual bed with blankets and something nicer to cuddle with than the armrest. Ed always falls asleep faster if someone else is out there with him.



 

And tonight’s option?

“But tonight? Tonight she would show them,” Ed says, his voice quiet and monotone. His face is an eerie shade of white and his glasses reflect a sharply dressed redheaded woman, muted in all but her gestures on the television screen.“Those who had doubted her would pay the ultimate price… but she too, would pay, for her misdeeds… in the end, everyone would meet their untimely blend...”

Dimitri stifles a fond smile, not sure whether he or not he should be looking at Ed or the television. Or trying to piece together what story he’s trying to tell.

Honestly? Dimitri wasn’t sure there had ever been a night when he’d chosen option A.


	10. It's The Little Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know, it's okay to have standards.

Max wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he treasured his every other weekly coffee dates with Violet. He didn’t remember exactly when they’d started doing it, or how it had become something so routine, but he valued it for what it was. Good coffee and good conversation with a good friend.

A good friend who was going to give him verbal hell for being late.

Max let out a quiet sigh of relief as the tiny, bustling cafe the two of them had claimed as their meeting place came into view. The Dreamy Sheep Café was a little hole in the wall kind of place wedged between a used bookstore that might as well not have windows for all the books stacked in front of them, [and a weird French restaurant with an Italian name that stunk of cheese](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4267278/chapters/9661203) on days that were especially hot and that Mr. Spender simply insisted he visit.

Mr. Spender had not won that battle yet.

Max stopped at the crosswalk, bouncing impatiently on his heels as the late afternoon traffic lazily rolled to a stop. He crossed with a small horde of other pedestrians. It was a familiar kind of hustle that reminded him of Baxborough in a lot of ways; it was one of the reasons Max liked that he lived in a city once again. Not that Mayview didn’t have it’s own… charms, for lack of a better word, but Max was born in the city. It always called to his heart.

The door to the Dreamy Sheep jingled as he walked through it, a musical and homely sound that befitted its interior appearance. He was immediately enveloped in the warm atmosphere of the cafe, shutting out the cheesy smell that had trailed him through the door. Max took a deep breath, letting the smell of ground coffee and abundant, fruity spices carry him into another world. A world where Violet wasn’t glaring at him from one of the comfy armchairs in the back of the cafe.

Max ignored her for now. He walked across to the counter to order, smiling politely at the girl on the other side and at the small, turquoise sheep spirit dancing on one of the counters behind her.

“Hey, [Ryan](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10910529/chapters/24259557). Hey, Sheepy,” he greeted, watching Sheepy perk up excitedly at his voice. It flounced across several shelves and hopped onto his head, taking a seat proudly on his hat.

Ryan smiled back, “Running a little late today, Max?” she teased. Whether it was fate or just coincidental scheduling, the spectral girl often seemed to be the one on register whenever Max and Violet stopped in. Max wouldn’t call them friends, exactly, but he knew they were totally her favorite customers. “Usual?” she asked, ringing up the order before Max responded.

“Usual,” he answered. He paid her the normal amount, setting enough off to the side to put some money in the tip jar. “You convince Inkwell to let you write on that thing yet?” he asked conversationally. He handed the girl her money as Sheepy began to snore on his head.

“Since that was your idea, and  _ not _ mine, I’m afraid to tell you I’ve made zero progress on that front,” Ryan answered bluntly, fighting the amused smile that was trying to sneak its way onto her face. She pressed a few buttons on the register, deposited the money, and handed Max his change back. “Check back next time though. The answer will probably be the same,” she shot at him, a smirk playing on her lips as she called his order to the back.

Max laughed at her dry sarcasm. He left the counter with one last wave to the familiar crew in the back and a spirit sheep still snoozing on his head, walking towards where his date for the afternoon sat waiting. The floorboards creaked familiarly under his feet, accompanied by the faint notes of elevator jazz that played from somewhere in the back. It was almost relaxing enough to make Violet’s penetrating stare less dread inducing. Almost.

“ _ Max _ , what a pleasant surprise,” she said as he walked up, feigning surprise. She tapped her fingers lightly on the outside of her half-empty coffee mug. Her posture said relaxed, but her eyes said “If you don’t have a good excuse for being late, I’m going to tell Lisa to hex you or something.”

Sheepy grunted quietly in its sleep on his head, offering no protection. Not that it could do anything against a non-spectral, really, but Max would have liked the support.

Carefully, he took a seat in the plush armchair opposite Violet. He could feel her eyes on him as he settled in, piercing and expectant, and he wondered how serious she was being right now. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, looking up to meet her gaze. “Ed tried to jump between the balconies at home and got stuck hanging off the side of one. We had to wait for the fire department to come rescue him.”   
  
Silence stretched between them for a very long moment as Violet just stared at him.

“ _ Please _ tell me you’re joking,” she said, leaning in to hear more.

“I  _ wish _ ,” he answered with a heavy sigh. “He got the idea after seeing Johnny do it, I guess. On the bright side, Dimitri finally got his revenge for Ed posting all over Facebook when he nearly burned the apartment down. So that’s one good thing to come out of this.”

Violet snorted and took a sip of her coffee. Clearly he had been forgiven, if he’d even been in trouble in the first place. “All the pictures that come out of your place, Max. Does everyone just always have a camera on hand or something?”

A waitress walked over, who Max very vaguely recognized as the worker named after a fish. She handed him his order and hurried back to the counter, more interested in coworker talk than whatever they were discussing. Max took a small sip of his coffee and winced at the temperature. “Nah. I think it’s mainly just Ed. He likes to document stuff,” Max explained, setting his too hot beverage on a side table for now. “Says it’s important to have evidence of all of our happy memories and everything.”

“Isabel does the same thing,” Violet responded, nodding in understanding. “I think she keeps them mostly on her phone though, even if they’re mostly of Suzy. She’s usually nice enough to ask before she puts them anywhere anyone else can see.”

“Usually?” Max asked, a sly grin forming on his face. “I think I distinctly remember seeing a video online from Lisa’s birthday party last week where you’d had a bit too much to drink and-”

Violet nearly spit out the coffee she was drinking, falling into a coughing fit. “DO.  **NOT.** ” she warned, her threatening tone outmatched by the blush on her cheeks. Max laughed loudly and smiled guiltlessly at her. It wasn’t every day he got to fluster cool and collected Violet. The woman glared at him, clearly not nearly as amused. “You don’t get to use that against me when Ed literally has an album dedicated to embarrassing pictures of you.”

“Eh,” Max shrugged. “I think I’m just used to it by now. I’ve accepted it as an unavoidable part of my life by this point,” he answered frankly, watching Violet’s face slowly turned from annoyed to barely masked horror.

“Why do you willingly  _ live _ like that?” she asked, grimacing. “I think I’d have left out of sheer paranoia by now.”

Max rolled his eyes, “You live with  _ Suzy _ . You don’t get to say that.”

“It’s easier on mine and Lisa’s rent,” Violet shot back, crossing her arms. She looked at him skeptically. “What’s your excuse?”

“I get to live in two whole apartments,” he answered, not missing a beat. He frowned thoughtfully. “Also free daily entertainment and dinner with a show. They pay for themselves.”

It was Violet’s turn to roll her eyes. She settled into her chair, sinking into the cushion as she leaned back. “And that’s all?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “Wow, I kind of expected you stayed there because you loved them or something silly like that,” she teased, a small smirk on her lips.

“Don’t get too ridiculous over there. I do have  _ standards _ , Violet,” he replied, scoffing the most offended sounding scoff he could manage. He reached to grab his coffee just as Violet took a rather sardonic sip of hers.

“And somehow, by some really weird chance of fate, those three met all of them?” she asked, eyes sparking with barely contained amusement. 

Max coughed awkwardly and hid in his coffee cup, taking a sip that scalded his throat as it went down as Violet took her turn to snicker at him. He didn’t respond to her at first. Instead of feeling embarrassed, as he was sure she had intended him to feel, Max felt very suddenly thoughtful. He took another, more careful sip of his coffee as the two of them lapsed into silence. Sheepy snuffled sleepily on his head, letting out a tiny, yawning “bah”.

Violet looked at him, her face falling from entertained to mildly concerned at his sudden silence. “Max?” she prompted, a frown etched into her expression.

Memories fluttered through Max’s mind and, for probably the first time, Max forced himself to think about the position he’d found himself in. He thought of the late nights spent watching absolutely awful movies that either left them all in stitches or tears, but always asleep in a pile on the couch. He thought of loud, hilarious conversations over dinner that sometimes had neighbors knocking on their door. He thought of late nights, wrapped in a tangle of limbs and blankets on beds that weren’t meant for four people, and how safe and comfortable he felt.

He thought of early mornings where he walked into the kitchen and saw Johnny staring intently at his crosswords and the fond smile that always graced the redhead’s lips whenever Max kissed him good morning, and how sometimes Johnny would catch him by surprise and kiss Max first and grin like he’d won something. Max thought about how glad he was Johnny had stayed with him so long.

He thought of the lazy afternoons spent playing video games with Ed. How Ed would exaggerate all of his losses and flail dramatically when Max was having a bad day, just to make him smile, and how they always ended up huddled together on the floor as Max just watched Ed play and narrate. How they always ended up asleep in that position and woke up sore, but with no regrets.

He thought of evenings spent in content silence laying against Dimitri’s side while the other read and Max listened to his steady, soft breathing. How he could feel Dimitri laugh that close, even if he didn’t hear it, and how Dimitri was always happy to share what he was reading and got excited when Max thought to ask. Even if Max only ever asked because Dimitri was cute when he got passionate about something.

He thought of all of the little things that just made those idiots  _ his _ idiots.

Max thought about how lively and colorful his life had become when he’d let those idiots come barging into it.

“Max?” Violet asked again, startling him out of his train of thought. He looked up to meet her concern filled eyes and waved a dismissive hand, forcing his mouth to work the way it was meant to.

“Sorry, I was just thinking,” he said. He took another sip of his coffee, watching the tension ease out of her shoulder. He shot her a smirk. “I like to think I have pretty  _ high _ standards, thank you very much.”

Violet snorted at that and just like that, their conversation returned to its usual sarcastic banter and commentary on how ridiculous their lives had become since graduating high school. Love made for a wild ride

Max went home that evening with Violet’s question stuck in his head, parting ways with her after hours of conversation. It followed him home, sitting in the back of his mind and dogging his steps as the sun sank down behind the city skyline. A chill snuck under his jacket and Max shivered. He looked up at the sky, tracing the darkening clouds as they faded with the sunlight.

It had been around this time when Johnny and Max had gotten their first apartment together, hadn’t it? 

The decision that had kickstarted a chain reaction that Max could barely comprehend. It started when Max had accidentally climbed onto the wrong balcony in the dead of night and scared the heck out of Dimitri in the morning. Two and a half years later, the reaction still hadn’t stopped; it had only intensified. Max didn’t consider himself much of a romantic, but he had to admit that love was terrifying force to be reckoned with. It had dragged them all together through a very convoluted chain of events… and Max doubted it had any plans to let them go.

He was strangely ok with that.

Max took the three flights of stairs up to their apartments, stopping to chat with Carol and Norah from 312 briefly before walking to his own door. Inside, he could hear Ed’s muffled, but dramatic voice recounting… something Max couldn’t understand, but had Johnny and Dimitri groaning loud enough to pass through walls. 

_ “And somehow, by some really weird chance of fate, those three met all of them?” _

Violet’s question echoed in his head again, loud and clear, questioning the quality of his standards. 

Something fond and warm bloomed in Max’s chest in response, radiating outward until he could feel it buzzing from his head to his toes. He stifled a quiet laugh of disbelief. A smile overtook his face, filled to the brim with affection, and he leaned his forehead against the cool wooden door that lead into apartment 309.

Because if Max was being honest, Johnny, Dimitri, and Ed had surpassed all of his standards a long, long time ago.

Max unlocked the door and walked inside, causing whatever the current conversation was to pause as they all looked up to greet him. They quickly returned to the topic at hand, of course, as Max closed the door behind him. But he didn’t need to look to know that they’d made room on the couch or that he was going to get dragged into this discussion the second he sat down.

Max fought down another burst of affection that welled in his chest.

He could live like this forever, he thought. Feeling contented and loved and wanted. Feeling like he could always walk into one of their two apartments and know that he belonged. He wondered, not for the first time, how he had ever gotten so lucky to find all of them; how lucky it was that they had all found each other. How lucky he was that, through thick and thin, he met all of their standards too.

Max smiled and turned back to face the three people he loved most in the world.

“Hey. I’m home.”

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....except not really the end because there is a bonus chapter, but that is unrelated to everything else here. So this is the end of the road! I hope you had fun and at least got a little enjoyment out of reading this. I know I had fun writing it.


	11. Hello My Old Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri hated the fact that he was the only one who remembered.
> 
> It was an indescribable sort of pain, something akin to losing someone you cared a lot about and then seeing their ghost meandering around without a clue in the world who you were. 
> 
> It’s a very fateful, painful day in 7th grade when Dimitri finds that he remembers everything.
> 
> It’s years until the favor is returned.
> 
> (reincarnation is hard. it's hard and no one understands)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look it's the AU of the AU literally no one asked for. I've got a soft spot for reincarnation and soul mates.
> 
> Incidentally, the title of this bonus comes from what Glowstickia and I decided was [Ed's theme song](https://youtu.be/3qm66N829mw) for this AU.

_There were four of them._

He rolls this information over and over in his head, almost more than he rolls over his actual plan for hitball. Maybe, very possibly, that’s why his plan fails. From the bleachers, he watches Max and Johnny work in tandem and vaguely recalls watching something similar, so similar play out in another place,and another time…

But this time Max makes it out alive.

_There were four of them._

Dimitri is personally amazed he doesn’t break under the weight of all of his previous lives as they come crashing down on him in the middle of an already eventful school day. It’s like he always knew, somehow, everything that suddenly explodes into his mind. Like a door that had just been gathering dust in his head, waiting for the right key.

_There were four of them._

He peers at Ed Burger next to him on the bleachers, too enthralled by what just happened to notice him staring.

_There were four of them._

He remembered lives where he’d never met any of them. Where he missed them by a hair, or a year, or a death. He remembers meeting one and being content. He remembers meeting two and being overjoyed. He never remembers meeting three.

_There were four of them._

Max had mentioned, in one lifetime or another, falling in love with someone who wasn’t Dimitri himself or Johnny before finding them. It actually seemed to be a reoccurring theme with the three of them: if only two of them found each other, the other always found a suitable replacement. At least, that’s what he remembered. Dimitri had never given it much thought. Of course they were bound to fall in love with other people if they couldn’t find each other. Of course it was a coincidence that it always seemed to be the same person, with a silly grin and a cowardly streak. Was it so surprising that they might all like the same type of person?

But of course, that person was nowhere to be found when the three of them found each other.

“There’s four of us…” Dimitri mutters to himself, quiet in the din of the cheering gym class. It’s a terrifying realization that throws everything he knows about his very sudden place in the reincarnation cycle out the window.

It’s a realization that sets in his head like the final piece of a puzzle as he watches Ed weave through the crowd to find Isabel as hitball comes to a close.

 

* * *

 

Isaac O’Connor’s 14th birthday nearly kills Dimitri, in several ways, metaphorically.

He hasn’t quite come to terms with how he feels about how he’s supposed to feel about Max, Johnny, and Ed, but he recognizes that face Max is making. He’s seen it so many times he almost instinctively tells Max to knock it off.  It’s flustered and full of denial, even if he looks like he’s about to die by marshmallow.

Johnny falls in love easy.

Max is always stubborn about it.

But Max has a crush on him, this early in their lifetime, and it’s borderline unnatural. Max doesn’t remember. Max, if memory serves, very rarely does. Max only falls in love that fast when there’s one of them, but there’s four this time. It were _always four_ , but they never knew. What could this mean? How did this change things? Dimitri doesn’t know what to think or what to do, so he quickly marches Cobalt Crusader out of Madame Midnight’s lair and distracts himself with hunting down the pretend murderer running amok.

He was really, truly hoping to have some time to sort his own feelings out before having to deal with everyone else's. He’d say that it was lucky Max ‘died’ when he did in-game, but that just meant he was left to deal with Johnny and Ed.

Johnny, aka Flaming Scourge, who seemed like he really, _really_ wanted Dimitri dead.

Ed, aka Mr. Green, who Dimitri tried to ignore until the trispectacled blond made it impossible.

Johnny, who would later admit that he thought Dimitri played a good game.

Ed, who Dimitri too late discovered was more worthy of his attention than he’d ever want to admit.

Dimitri was slowly remembering why he fell in love in the first place.

 

* * *

 

Max and Johnny start dating late into their high school careers.

Dimitri is torn between being happy for them, and accepting what that might likely mean.

It meant they would be split in pairs of two, and that in their next lifetime Dimitri would forget that “two” was meant to be “four”. This would be the most likely outcome.

Alternatively, it meant that there was still a chance for all of them if Dimitri figured out what was keeping them all apart in the first place. Certainly, he thought, this couldn’t be the only time all four of them were alive together? He refused to believe that if three of them together, the fourth one hadn’t been nearby.

Dimitri watches the three people he knows he’s supposed to love when he gets the chance. His feelings aren’t sorted, but they’re settling in, and he’s slowly coming to accept that.

Primarily, Dimitri watches Ed. Never before had the fate of anything ever hinged on Ed Burger, but stranger things happened in life all the time. With multiple lifetimes under his belt, Dimitri knew this all too well. Dimitri watches and he tries to remember. He looks for Ed in his memories where he thinks he might have missed him, because he had to be in there somewhere.

Didn’t he?

When Dimitri figures out the reason it’s always three missing one, or two by two marching through life, he nearly screams in the middle of his AP Calculus class.

Ed is a coward at heart.

Dimitri knows this more in this lifetime than any other. It’s one of Ed’s more notable character traits that he has trouble facing things head on. He’s grown out of it in recent years; grown a backbone and learned to stand on his own feet. But it’s a trait that runs so deep that Dimitri can’t help but wonder if it’s gotten worse as the lifetimes have gone by.

Ed is crushing on all three of them late in their high school careers.

Dimitri doesn’t notice at first and he’s a little mad it takes him so long realize this fact. Because while Ed is most certainly a coward, he’s also a marvelous actor that puts Dimitri’s cool facade to shame. He’s fashioned a mask for himself so perfect and so precise that Dimitri worries Ed’s lost himself in it.

Ed helped get Max and Johnny together.

When Dimitri hears this from Suzy he has to restrain himself for asking for every detail she knows.

Even when he has the full story it takes Dimitri longer than it should to understand what happened.

Ed would flirt with those two relentlessly, so much Dimitri thinks they both had to have been brain dead to believe he was joking. It was always jokes with Ed; something he could easily laugh his way out of. And while he’s less forward with Dimitri, presumably because they haven’t interacted much since middle school, it’s like Ed is trying his best to worm his way into Dimitri’s heart.

It’s not until after he sees the three of them together after that it clicks.

Ed’s quit flirting with them. Certainly, he still jokes, and the desire is there. But the intent behind it is gone. His smiles are just a little too wide. He laughs just a little off pitch. He hides behind his glasses when he goes to make a joke. He’s friendly, but distant in a way that Dimitri doesn’t understand until Ed acts the same towards him.

Ed is as much of a coward as he is in love. Those two traits are not complementary and Ed is certainly none the better for it.

Dimitri realizes too late that the reason Ed never acted on his feelings.

Ed thought he’d never have a chance with them.

 

* * *

 

When Dimitri wakes one day to find Max Puckett asleep on the balcony of his third floor apartment, he thinks college finals are getting to him. It isn’t until Johnny Jhonny comes banging on his door about his boyfriend on the wrong balcony that Dimitri accepts that, yes, this is actually reality.

The two of them insert themselves into his life so easily that Dimitri has a difficult time remembering they weren’t always there.

He has a difficult time remembering whether or not he should be in love with them, too.

A year passes before Dimitri realizes they’ve all been practically living together out of two apartments.

It’s the friendly banter over dinner in 309. It’s Max falling asleep in 310 and jumping across the balconies in the morning because his school supplies are in the other apartment and _apparently_ , parkour is quicker. It’s Dimitri and Johnny putting their heads together to figure out why Max changed the wifi password so they can apologize, because they can’t figure it out for the life of them.

It’s Max and Johnny falling asleep on top of him while they’re watching a movie one night, popcorn everywhere and DVD cases thrown halfway across the room.

He’d say he’s overjoyed.

But there were supposed to be four of them.

Dimitri doesn’t mention this, and instead suggests they all just combine their rent money already.

For tax purposes.

 

* * *

 

Dimitri lost track of Ed after high school, and it’s something that fills him with regret whenever he begins to dwell on it.

He only knows that Ed’s in the area because Max mentions it off hand. Those two are still in contact, which comes as something of a surprise to Dimitri.

What comes as even more of a surprise is that Ed is rooming with Isaac O’Connor.

“It’s mostly just for convenience,” Max tells Dimitri when he asks him one day, as Dimitri hovers around and watches dinner in the making. “There’s not enough room over at Isabel’s for him and Isaac has a huge apartment all to himself over on the east side.”

“But it’s _Isaac_ ,” Dimitri points out, disbelief in his voice that anyone would spend that much time with the ginger willingly. Max snorts. Dimitri smiles, small and soft. It hardens when he asks, “Why didn’t he just ask to stay with us? It’s not like we don’t have the room.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, there, and Dimitri knows instantly that Max knows something he doesn’t.

“I offered, actually,” Max says after a moment, his voice low. He’s frowning at the simmering pot of chili on the stove. “Isabel suggested it too. Ed turned us both down.”

Something churns in Dimitri’s stomach, sour and disappointed.

He pushes it aside stubbornly and replaces it with a fiery determination.

He wasn’t letting Ed get away this time.

 

* * *

 

He hatches a plan with Johnny.

Johnny, apparently, who both remembered a lot more than Dimitri gave him credit for and was certainly willing to believe the whole ‘reincarnation thing’.

“When did you start… remembering things?” It’s a loaded question, asked huddled on the couch one morning while while Max is at school.

Johnny shrugs in his embrace, “I dunno, high school?” he pauses, and Dimitri knows what he’s going to say before he says it. “I guess around when I started dating Max.”

Dimitri nods, silently prompting Johnny to keep talking.

“It was a lot of weird dreams. A lot of losing track of where I was.”

“Sounds rough,” Dimitri mumbles sympathetically.

Johnny shrugs again, a little more relaxed, “Eh, wasn’t the worst thing I ever dealt with. That one spirit in the girl’s locker room Senior year takes the award for that.”

Dimitri tries not to laugh and fails.

Max walks in the door right about then, grumbling about homework and what he should make for dinner, and Johnny unceremoniously pulls him into the cuddle pile on the couch.

They run their plan by Max to try and bring some life back to Ed’s social life.

Max suggests getting Isabel involved.

In hindsight, Dimitri thinks, they should have gotten Isabel involved sooner.

 

* * *

 

It’s small things at first.

Isabel is the one who suggests her apartment as the start of it all.

“Ed can’t resist a game night,” Dimitri overhears her telling Max while the two of them put together snacks. He’s not sure he believes that until Ed is the first person to arrive, Isaac following not far behind.

Ed freezes when he sees Johnny. When he notices that Dimitri and Max are there, too, Dimitri isn’t entirely convinced Ed isn’t desperate enough to jump out a window. He goes over to try and make conversation before that happens.

When Ed speaks, he smiles a little too wide, “Isabel didn’t tell me so many people were going to be here.” _Isabel didn’t tell me the three of you were coming._

Dimitri ignores the implications in his tone for now. Instead, he shrugs and nods over at the impressive video game setup Suzy somehow crammed into their tiny living room. “The more the merrier, as they say. Isabel wanted everyone to group together in teams of four for some tournament games.”

“Huh. That’s interesting,” Ed says, expression unreadable behind his glasses.

Dimitri nods. “Yeah. You wanna join our team?” He shouldn’t ask, he knows he shouldn’t. “We need one more person.”

The room goes quiet. It doesn’t, not really, but it feels like it with how quiet Ed gets.

“Considering you’ve got Max and Johnny on your team, I think you need all the help you can get,” Ed answers, laughing just a little off pitch.

He said yes.

It’s a start.

 

* * *

 

He’s warming up to them.

It doesn’t take a lot.

He’s still in love with all three of them after all this time and Dimitri is worried Ed’s going to hurt himself with how he won’t accept how he feels. It’s like he built a wall around his heart made of the hardest stone imaginable and Dimitri’s not even sure Johnny’s brute strength could break it down.

They invited him over for movies tonight. Rather, Max did, and somehow everyone has a hard time saying _no_ to Max. Johnny is making it his job to be as much in Ed’s personal space as possible. Small touches, bumping into him in their kitchen while trying to get snacks. Clapping him on the shoulder when Ed makes an especially good joke, even if Johnny might be laughing harder than necessary. Slinging his arm around his shoulders every other conversation.

Ed looks so conflicted.

It’s almost painful to watch.

The detective movie was Dimitri’s pick. And while there’s certainly enough room on the couch for all four of them, no amount of insisting gets Ed up from where he’s sprawled himself out on the floor in front of the T.V.

Which is probably for the best considering Max falls asleep halfway through the film and takes up half the couch. As usual.

“Ed?” Johnny whispers, or as quietly as Johnny is capable of whispering. The redhead slowly eases the popcorn bowl out of Max’s hands and passes it down to Ed, who makes such a point of making sure their hands don’t touch that he nearly drops the bowl. Dimitri rolls his eyes and bites his tongue.

It’s hard to make progress when Ed just refuses to work with them.

Johnny falls asleep sometime during the third act of the movie, snoring quietly. His head cranes at an odd angle and Dimitri is already dreading how he’s going to complain in the morning.

“12 year old me could have planned a murder better than this.”

It’s said so quietly, and with such derision, Dimitri laughs before he’s sure he’s even heard it correctly. Ed jumps, bumping into Dimitri’s ankles before quickly moving away.

“O-oh. Sorry,” the blond rushes to say, the movie playing out on his glasses when he looks up. “I thought you guys were all asleep...” Ed nods to the other two on the couch.

“One of us actually knows how to be a host,” Dimitri responds, smirking in Ed’s direction. He looks away so quickly Dimitri wonders if he gave himself whiplash. “So how would you do it?”

Ed munches loudly and self-consciously on cold popcorn like nothing is wrong in the world. “Do what?”

“Kill that guy. How would you do it?” Dimitri asks, leaning forward curiously to look at Ed’s face.

The detective on screen points dramatically at another red herring, dropping into a monologue that might just last until the credits roll.

Ed doesn’t move. Dimitri can see the scales tipping in his head, weighing the pros and cons of responding. He can’t help but wonder why Ed feels everything he does with them has to be calculated.

“Well, first off all, poison? Wow predictable much? I mean, where is this guy's originality? Where's his flair?”

Dimitri hides a smile as Ed launches into a detailed explanation that lasts so long that Ed has to sleep in the guest room that night.

He moves in about a month after that, citing creative differences with Isaac as the reason.

Dimitri and Johnny share triumphant looks.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, man,” Johnny teases, locking Ed into a noogie.

It’s still going to take some work, Dimitri knows, for things to get to where they need to be. For Ed to stop being a coward. For all of them to get to know each other the way they need to. For everything to fall into place.

The glare on Ed’s glasses vanishes, displaced by Johnny’s rough housing, and Dimitri meets Ed’s nervous stare.

Ed smiles shakily at him.

Dimitri smiles back, fond enough to make Ed blush and try and get away from Johnny.

Max ruins the moment and makes Johnny help Ed move into one of the bedrooms, citing that he wants Ed settled before dinner. Max is such a mother hen when he wants to be. It was the weirdest constant in all of their shared lives, even if he’s the only one who thinks that it’s funny.

Dimitri used to hate the fact that he was the only one who remembered things like that.

But he watches, now, as everyone interacts. Sees the jokes and the amused glances, the quietly fond exasperation as Johnny tries again to noogie Ed and Max has to intervene to get this show on the road. And Dimitri thinks about the uncertainty of this future. A future that, for some reason beyond Dimitri’s comprehension, has fallen right into their laps.

_There’s four of them._

The realization hits, loud and clear like a bell in his head. Like the final piece of a puzzle fitting snuggly into the center of the picture. And Dimitri laughs. He laughs, quiet and sincere and overwhelmed, and everyone pauses to ask him just what’s so funny.

For the first time in all of his lives, Dimitri feels whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And.....SCENE.


End file.
